Po's Peek: Hearing Issues Mixed with a Compulsion to Speak

The prelude

When it comes to making a purchase, never argue with a woman. My wife warned me that the on-line price I found for two Seresto flea and tick collars was too good to be true. And, of course, she was right. When I told her of the deal I got, which was less than half of the expected price, she asked me what the tracking number was on the order. And I replied, “What tracking number?”

Not an order number, nor a tracking number, nor a confirmation number were given to me. The collars were fake, and I halted the transaction by calling my credit card company immediately. I was surprised that the phony establishment sent them to me anyway. So when they arrived in the mail, I put the two new collars on my two Labrador Retrievers, knowing that they were still protected by the oral medication I had previously given them.

This was at a time before I wore hearing aids

A few days later I was stream-side, tossing tennis balls into a nearby creek while my Labs were enjoying splashing in the cool water as they retrieved the balls. A semi-retired veterinarian owned the property and he came over to chitchat with me when he recognized who I was. He and I had chatted numerous times in the past. He was aware of my background and my heart issues, which will contribute to the plot of this story.

As he observed the dogs, he looked toward me and asked, “Do the collars have any significance”? And I went into an oral dissertation about the fake collars that were now being worn by the dogs.

He had a puzzled, almost perplexed look on his face, the entire time I related the collar incident to him. And since I had a captive audience, I went through every detail I could remember, while I embellished the fake collar story. It felt like I just couldn’t stop, all the while providing needless and repetitive information about my purchase. I even sang a few lines from the Seresto jingle used on the television commercial. I was on a roll to say the least and his interest was extraordinary. I wasn’t surprised though. After all, he was a veterinarian.

A smile started to appear on his face as I kept my compulsive oratory going full speed. He never interrupted me, and his attention never seemed to wane as my ten-minute narrative finally began to wind down.

Coming up for air

When I finally paused long enough to catch my breath, his smile broadened widely and he admitted, “That’s a very interesting story, but I asked you if the colors (of the balls) had any significance.”

Having misheard “collars” for “colors,” I then remembered that the two tennis balls were not the same color, and that I always threw the same colored ball to the faster dog first. Then, I threw the remaining ball for the older, slower dog, to retrieve. The gentleman was quick to notice that from my first two tosses into the creek.

As I attempted to apologize profusely for my lack of auditory skills, his smile turned into an outright laugh. He continued, “Oh, now I understand completely. But what added to my confusion was that during your entire story, you also referred to the collars as Entresto (the heart medication), rather than Seresto.”

I felt red-faced and embarrassed, but on the positive side, I was suddenly and thankfully now speechless.

* Footnote: Yes, in addition to having difficulty hearing, I am also color blind, but the two tennis balls were also different in size. I threw the larger one first (for the faster dog) each time.